


Going The Extra Mile

by DinobotGlitch



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Development, Fluff, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-03-16 03:32:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13627713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinobotGlitch/pseuds/DinobotGlitch
Summary: Sentinel was at a loss for words, quite honestly. He was finally the Magnus, with all the perks afforded to the position, just as he deserved. He could have anything, anyone - it only made sense. So why, why was the one person he wanted most acting so indifferent toward him?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zekkass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zekkass/gifts).



> A much belated Secret Santa gift for Zekkass on tumblr, who has waited so patiently. I feel absolutely awful that IRL has fucked me so hard that it took this long to get to where I could finish/post this story. >.< I sincerely hope it's worth the wait, but would be happy to write something else if you don't end up liking it, dear!

Most things took an age and a half to come to fruition on Cybertron. It was hard to say whether it was because Autobots were practically immortal - and therefore not in a hurry to change much of anything - or because they were notoriously disagreeable. Nevertheless, the truth remained. It didn’t matter who you were - there was always a wagging finger in the face of anyone who sought something not already allotted to them, red tape at every turn besides that, and endless pages of procedures necessary to reach any given goal, with each taking three times the effort of the last. You had to be truly ambitious to get what you wanted in the Autobot Commonwealth.

When things _did_ happen, however, they happened quickly.

One such thing was the trial and imprisonment of the Decepticon leader, Megatron, and his lieutenants. Sentinel had never seen anyone get locked up so quickly and unanimously. Autobots were infamous for their ability to draw out a debate in the smallest, most petty ways, and take five solar cycles to reach a compromise over it. He knew, because he was a master of the craft.

Another, much to Sentinel’s chagrin, was Optimus’s rejection in the aftermath of that event. When Sentinel had - quite graciously - offered him a place at his side after his well-deserved rise to glory, Optimus had snubbed him quickly and efficiently, wasting no effort before drawing the conversation short with his departure. Who would turn down someone so obviously destined for greatness? Someone who had literally just been graced with the Magnus title (even if it was just supposed to be temporary)?

Well, Optimus, apparently.

Even disgraced - all but banished from his own homeworld to live out his life as a lowly maintenance bot -Optimus apparently thought he didn’t need to be in Sentinel’s good graces. He just so happened to get _one_ lucky shot in and caught the feeble, elderly criminal Megatron in his servos, and suddenly he was _too good_ for Sentinel? The only reason he even wasted time on his so-called friend was out of pity - he was doing that loser a favor!

So why did it feel like he was the one missing out on something, once it became apparent that Optimus was being quite serious about his rejection?

\----

Nobody in their right processor could accuse Sentinel of doing any real soul searching, and for a long time, he remained certain that there was no need to. He wasn’t the type of mech to be “wrong”. That was something others did. Not Sentinel Prime, and especially not Sentinel Magnus. You didn’t get to be Magnus and be _wrong_ at the same time!

… Did you?

\----

It had been months since the initial rejection - not that anyone was keeping track or anything, because that was too ridiculous a notion to even contemplate. Sentinel _guessed_ it had been months… oh, who was he kidding? But so what if he had onlined every morning expecting to see an apology in his inbox? He was only awaiting what he was rightly due!

Being Magnus had been- _was_ his dream. It was everything he had strived for in his career! But for some reason, so much as seeing Optimus’s face on yet another poster or news article had begun to make him resent getting the job at all. If not for this promotion undoubtedly making him seem untouchable, he felt sure that Optimus would have gladly fallen into his arms when asked. 

After all the suffering Optimus had caused him in the past, was that not the least that Sentinel deserved?

Though if truth be told, it was… lonely, sitting in that overly large office and doing nothing but paperwork and dwelling on Optimus’s frankly unfair treatment of him. Where was the flair? The grandeur? The- the _people_? Where were his adoring, fawning fans? There had been whole shifts where he couldn’t even see past the paperwork on his desk, for Allspark’s sake! While Optimus was out there shaking hands and being interviewed for being ‘Cybertron’s greatest hero’, he was dealing with tax laws and education budgets.

It was miserable. _He_ was miserable. And Optimus wouldn’t even pick up his calls anymore. Was he too busy? Was he having too much fun being in the limelight? Was he _seeing someone else_?

For some reason, the very thought turned Sentinel’s tanks, so he did what he did best: put on his game face and marched himself right over to Optimus’s new apartment to knock on the door like he owned the place.

What he didn’t expect was for the Bumbler, the bane of his existence when he had been but a Minor, to answer the summons instead and then actually hiss in distaste at him.

“Stand aside, reject, I’m here to see Optimus,” he growled at the pint-sized mech. This was apparently the wrong thing to do, because with a single tap, the door was snapped back shut and the audible click of a lock engaging echoed in the hallway where Sentinel had been left unceremoniously standing.

He was quick to action, pounding on the door with renewed vigor - and no small part annoyance - and calling out Optimus’s name as he did so.

He could handle a (temporary! It was only temporary!) rejection from Optimus, but he wasn’t going to take it from _Bumblebee_ , of all slagging mechs!

“Alright- _alright_ , slag, hold _on_!” came the sweet, dulcet tones of Optimus Prime, Hero of Cybertron, that he longed to hear more than he would ever admit aloud. There was some hasty argument on the other side of the door - and wow, Sentinel didn’t know how Optimus had managed to get by with so little privacy - before the door was unlocked and opened once more.

“- no, shut up, Bumblebee, just go sit back down with the others,” Optimus was commanding - no, Sentinel wasn’t going to think too deeply on that, absolutely not - as he moved to fill the frame of the door and look at his visitor squarely. He didn’t look too pleased to see him, either, but Sentinel had no intention of letting that take the wind out of his proverbial sails.

“Hello, Optimus!”

“… Hello, Sentinel… Magnus, sir. Is there something I can do for you?”

Why did it sound less attractive when Optimus was saying it?

“Yes, I, uh,” slag, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. He needed an excuse to be here, anything, anything- oh!

Sentinel straightened his shoulders and affected the haughty air he was so well-known for, rolling with the reason so conveniently handed to him. “You had an appointment with me today. Don’t tell me you _forgot_ , Optimus.”

There was a momentary confusion that flickered across the Prime’s face, presumably as he checked his schedule and then rechecked it for good measure.

“I didn’t-,” Optimus started to say with a frown, but Sentinel cut him off with a well-rehearsed flick of his hand.

“You did. You absolutely did, and I’ve been waiting very patiently. I do hope you haven’t been lounging about at home while your Magnus-”

“You’re not _our_ Magnus!” Bumblebee spat venomously from the hallway into what Sentinel assumed was a living room or den of some kind, but Sentinel pressed on doggedly. He would exact punishment on the pipsqueak later.

“- while your _Magnus_ has been looking forward to an interview with you for _solar cycles_ , Optimus.”

“No, of course not… Ah, I suppose time just got away from me? I was supposed to be off duty today…” Optimus was looking off-kilter - good. It would be much easier to get what he wanted if Optimus was already disoriented!

“Then you wouldn’t mind coming back to my office so we can finally get this underway?”

“Uh… Sure? Okay. How long do you think it’ll take? I’ll need to let the others know where I’m going.”

“It’ll take as long as it takes. I’m sure they’ll… manage without you. Don’t keep me waiting any longer.”

“Fine, let me just… just wait there a second, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Optimus didn’t wait for an answer before closing the door, and Sentinel felt it was quite admirable of him to not get miffed at that rudeness. Optimus wasn’t the most polite of mechs, he had known that since their academy days… He could let this one pass. After all, he would soon make Optimus see reason, and his life would be perfect again!


	2. Chapter 2

When Optimus came back to the door a couple of minutes later, he looked slightly haggard, but he covered it quickly with a polite, professional smile as he nudged Sentinel back and stepped out.

“Sorry about that. I had to let my friends know where I was going so they wouldn’t worry. Ah… Shall we, then?”

Sentinel harrumphed, but it was only to disguise his giddiness over having his own way. He had an image to keep, after all!

“C’mon,” he said so that it sounded like it was his idea to begin with. He turned smartly to head back the way he had come. “We’re already so far behind schedule that I don’t know how I’m ever going to get caught up, so you should really be acting more grateful to me for bothering to come fetch you at all. And look a little more alive, would you? I don’t want you tarnishing my reputation by looking like you just crawled out of a dumpster.”

Optimus mumbled something darkly behind him, but Sentinel didn’t worry about asking him to repeat it. It was probably a reprimand to himself for looking like that, since it was kind of true. 

For all the talk of him being Cybertron’s “hero”, Optimus certainly wasn’t living like it. He still had a dingy one bedroom apartment just inside of downtown Iacon; he still had all the same friends from that maintenance job that he _still_ kept… If he was really a hero, then he should have been living in a luxury suite atop the Towers - or, even better, a _house_. Imagine that? A whole chunk of land with a standalone residence all to yourself, with no neighbors just a couple of paces away… Even Sentinel didn’t have that. Not yet, of course, because he would eventually whether the council approved of him living outside the Magnus suite or not.

Truly, Optimus was squandering a priceless opportunity. Typical, really.

Sentinel, still lost in his fantasy world of owning a house and having all the wonderful perks that came with such opulence, barely noticed how quiet Optimus was being. Normally the mech would try to make small talk with him, but not this time… if he had cared to give it a thought, Sentinel might have taken that as a sign of how the rest of his day would go.

He didn’t, however, so he was still in his fluffy bubble of joy when they rolled up on the government complex and went through security to head to his office. Cliffjumper was waiting for him at the door, but he waved a hand imperiously - the gesture little more than an afterthought - and said, “Not now, Cliffjumper. I’ve got a very serious appointment that needs to be kept.”

“But sir,” the red minibot said with a frown, eying Optimus warily before pressing onward. “I’ve been waiting-”

“A little while longer won’t hurt anything. I’m sure you have your job well in hand, right?” Sentinel asked, just a little too casually. Cliffjumper’s frown deepened, but it was impossible to miss how he straightened up and squared his shoulders, just as Sentinel had expected him to do. He just needed the right motivation, that was all.

“Of course, sir. I’ll… I’ll come back later. Excuse me.”

Cliffjumper clutched his files to his chest as he sidled around Optimus, a mumbled, “Good cycle,” passing his dermas as he did so. Then, finally, he was gone, and Sentinel could show Optimus into his office unimpeded.

“Oh, wow,” Optimus said after a moment of stunned surprise once they passed the threshold - and who could blame him? The last time he had been here, it had still been styled to Ultra Magnus’s minimalist tastes. Now, it was filled with marks of Sentinel’s own accomplishments: awards on the shelves and walls, a brand new oil cabinet and matching couch set in one corner, and a gleaming chrome desk that was polished to a mirror finish adorned the once barren space.

“Pretty great, right?” Sentinel boasted. “It was a bit of a struggle to fit every single one of my awards in here, but I did it. I’m probably the most decorated Magnus in history, you know.”

“Great… right. Uh… Why are we here, again?” Optimus asked. He looked notably uncomfortable- undoubtedly due to the reminder of Sentinel’s obvious superiority over him. Well, Sentinel couldn’t help how amazing and skilled he was!

“For your interview, of course!” Sentinel replied blithely. Wasn’t it obvious? Where better to host an - admittedly staged and completely fake - interview than his own gorgeous office?

“Oh. And this, uh, interview. Why am I completely unable to recall agreeing to it? Or any of my friends, for that matter. No offense, Sen- sir, but I don’t usually forget my appointments.”

“Who knows?” Sentinel hedged with a shrug. In the interests of getting the ball rolling, he gestured to the couch near the oil cabinet. “But let’s get it underway. Feel free to make yourself comfortable wherever. Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thank you. I just ate- don’t wanna upset my tank, you know. But please, don’t let that stop you from enjoying a glass.”

“Naturally. You’ll let me know if you change your mind,” Sentinel said, torn between posing it as an order and a question as he filled a tumbler with dark, viscous liquid. Which was better in this situation? He couldn’t _force_ Optimus to have a drink. But making it a question seemed so dumb…

Thankfully, Optimus seemed not to notice either way; he had already settled on one end of the smaller couch, and seemed to be preoccupied with testing its firmness. He would find no fault with it, Sentinel was certain, yet he couldn’t help but watch the mech closely as he sat in an armchair across from him all the same.

Optimus said nothing once he stopped pressing and releasing the edge of the cushion, but straightened his posture to face Sentinel directly. It was a little thing, but it made Sentinel feel really good. He liked being the center of attention - the center of _Optimus’s_ attention.

Only after a beat of silence did he realize that the Prime seemed to be waiting for _him_ to say something, and he warmed for an entirely different reason. He had just been waiting for Optimus to say he was ready, he certainly hadn’t been gawking like some stupid fledgling!

He cleared his vocalizer and harrumphed again.

“Right, well.” Uh… How did interviews usually go? They usually asked about… oh!

“So. Uh. You’ve been pretty- pretty busy, huh? Since returning to Cybertron?”

“… Yes?” Optimus replied, a very obvious hint of inquiry in his tone.

Sentinel nodded as if he had expected that answer. It was hard to smother the jealousy though.

“What have you been up to?”

“Nothing very exciting… I’ve mostly just been trying to keep up with the reporters who want to interview me. People on the street, too. Everyone wants to talk about Megatron, but I just want to forget, you know?”

“I can’t say I do- I mean, I know about wanting to be interviewed! Everyone’s always chasing me down to talk about something, haha,” Sentinel said hurriedly. He couldn’t let Optimus think he was one-upping him somehow! “But surely you’re reveling in the attention. It’s not like you saw much positive attention from the press before… Well, you know.”

Awkward silence reigned for a moment - neither of them liked to talk about the incident that had ended in Optimus’s unofficial exile from Cybertron.

“Well, sure. It’s nice to be seen as a hero for once,” Optimus agreed with a slight nod after he had recollected himself. The confusion in his expression never wavered though.

“Of course,” Sentinel agreed. He was more than eager to press on. “You’re almost as popular as I am these days!”

“Yes… Perhaps.” Optimus didn’t quite meet his gaze as he answered. He had returned to prodding the cushion, irritatingly enough.

Sentinel didn’t let that dissuade him though. He was on the right track to getting the answers he sought!

“Only almost, mind you. But still. That’s a pretty big feat for someone like you, eh?” Sentinel laughed just a little too loud, and then took a sip of his drink. “Nosey busybodies aren’t the only ones accosting you though, I’d imagine. Maybe you’ve found a pretty little thing or two to keep you company as well? After all, it must’ve been pretty lonely with only that team of maintenance bots for all that time.”

“Uh…” Optimus looked to be hesitating; he was right on the cusp of shutting down, and they just couldn’t be having that!

“Don’t be shy, Optimus. You’re with a friend here! You can tell your old pal Sentinel, right?”

“That’s not…” Optimus’s voice faded off as he seemed to think things over for a second, and his gaze sharpened suspiciously. “Sir… Sentinel. What’s this really about?”

“What are you talking about? This is an interview. You should feel honored that _the_ Sentinel Magnus has deigned to interview you, not asking stupid questions like that!”

“This isn’t an interview- at least, not a proper one. Most people record their interviews, or write them down, or _something_. You’ve just been asking me a bunch of weird and frankly invasive questions this whole time,” Optimus accused, and made to stand. “So if you’re not going to tell me what’s really going on, I’m going to leave.”

Sentinel was up in a flash, blocking Optimus’s exit without a second thought.

“No! You can’t leave!”

“And why not?” Optimus asked, planting his hands on his hips as he did so.

Sentinel balked at the pointed question, and barely kept his armor from fluffing out in agitation even when he leaned forward in an instinctive attempt at intimidation.

“Because- because I said no. I’m your superior and I said no, Optimus, so sit back down.”

“That’s not how this works. I’m not your subordinate right now,” Optimus countered with a scowl. “I thought this was an interview, not an interrogation.”

“It is an interview, obviously! But you can’t- you’re not _allowed_ to just leave. The interview isn’t over until I say it’s over.”

“It’s over when _I_ say it’s over. I’m done talking, Sentinel. Now get out of my way.”

Sentinel felt his proverbial hackles rising. “I won’t! You’re just going to go back to those worthless maintenance bots, anyway. Why would you do that when you could be here?”

“I’d rather be _anywhere_ but here, in case you hadn’t noticed. How could you think I want to be anywhere near you if I don’t have to be?”

“Why wouldn’t you want to be near me?”

“Gee, I fragging _wonder_!”

Sentinel spluttered, undignified but also uncaring, as Optimus shoved him out of the way and headed for the door again.

“Wh- is this- are you talking about when I invited you to be my consort? C’mon, it’s been like- like half a solar rotation already, Optimus. You can’t possibly be mad at me when you’re the one that turned me down!”

Optimus stifled a long suffering sigh as he paused with his hand over the door panel and turned to address Sentinel as calmly as he was able despite the obvious anger that had drawn his frame taut.

“Sentinel. You asked me if I wanted to be your glorified _berth warmer_. You just assumed I would want to lower myself to that again just because you were the Magnus.”

That baffled Sentinel, and it showed plainly in his next question. “… Well, don’t you?”

“No. No, I don’t. I want to be respected by you. I may have made mistakes in the past, but I’ve more than paid them back. I should have never had to pay them back in the way you demanded in the first place, but how was I to know? Only since getting away from you did I learn my worth, and your blatant lack of real feelings for me. Leaving Cybertron was the best thing that could have ever happened to me after Elita… After all that. I know better now, and I’m not going to give in to you again. Goodbye, Sentinel.”

Before Sentinel had a chance to react, Optimus was out the door and gone.

Again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, this took a while to get out the door! But we're getting there! *huehuehue-ing intensifies*

Sentinel was flabbergasted.

He couldn’t believe it. Turned down _again_? Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. Clearly, Optimus’s ego had gotten too big for his station. Hero or not, he couldn’t just turn down someone like _him_!

Once Sentinel had fully grasped what had transpired, he stormed out of his office. He knew he shouldn’t make a scene, he did! But even so, he left the room fully intending to catch Optimus before he could leave the building, so that he could give him the stern dressing down he rightly deserved.

He didn’t make it more than a step before being caught by another of his underlings, who seemed to think that he was somehow beholden to them at all times. It was possible that that was for the best though - at least this once - because while he was busy yelling at them for interrupting him, a thought occurred to him. A rare strand of undiluted logic momentarily distracted him and soothed his ire somewhat despite his best efforts to remain mad: what if this had just been Optimus’s awkward attempt at being coy?

The thought still rang true hours later, when he was back in his apartment and free to muse without interruption. Optimus had grown and matured in their time apart… There was no denying that. He had said that he wouldn’t be with Sentinel _just_ because Sentinel had asked him. That didn’t mean he didn’t _want_ to be with him at all…

Yes, of course. He was playing hard to get, wasn’t he? He wanted Sentinel to work for it a little bit.

Well, he could do that!

\----

There was precious little chance to do it over the next couple of days, unfortunately. Cliffjumper had caught him bright and early the next morning and kept him busy with a whole plethora of security updates which he had devised in the wake of the discovery of Longarm Prime’s betrayal- of Shockwave’s infiltration. It was boring and it was time consuming, but it was important. It would - as Cliffjumper had pointed out whenever he started to waver on making decisions - only help cement his ability in others’ optics if he reviewed and approved the upgrades himself.

He was glad to be rid of Cliffjumper as soon as it was possible to be so, all the same. He was having terrible fluxes about stray coding and malfunctioning security drones after all that talk…

A couple more days of rest were more than enough to rejuvenate him, and then he was finally ready to tackle the task of swaying Optimus to his way of thinking. For real, this time!

First on the agenda was finding out what kinds of gifts you gave to someone that you wanted to make fancy you, but nobody seemed to have good advice. Romance themed reading files? Crystal bouquets? What the slag did they think those were for? Optimus didn’t like any of those things. He liked… Slag, what did he like?

History. Optimus liked history, didn’t he? He was always watching those old war documentaries back in the academy… But then, didn’t that mean Sentinel could just check that mark off since he, himself, was _making_ history? He was the Magnus, after all!

What else did he like, then?

Organics. He knew Optimus had grown fond of them during his time on Earth, no matter how gross the rest of Cybertron thought they were. Could he give Optimus an Earthling? Probably not. He already had that one- what was its name? Sorry? Siri?

Whatever it was, he already had one of those, so he probably didn’t need any others. Needing wasn’t the same as wanting though, so maybe the idea still had merit.

But…

What if they - eugh - _bred_? Organics did that with little to no prompting, often loudly and messily. If he was to have Optimus at his side, he definitely did not want to deal with _that_ later on.

Maybe some stupid little crystal plant would have to do after all. At the very least, he could find one that was unique, like himself, and there would be no possible way for Optimus to already have it. And since Sentinel put thought and effort into it, there was no reason for him to reject it, either!

A trip to a local florist nearly ended in disaster, however - paparazzi had caught wind of his search for gifts and took the opportunity to share pictures of him choosing a flamboyant potted crystal cluster, and only the fact that Optimus was steering clear of all media sites - by his own admission, because he got sick of all the publicity about two days into it - kept his surprise, well, a surprise until he could catch the other mech at his apartment again.

“Uh… What’s this supposed to be for?”

That didn’t mean he was going to respond well to it. He was a plebian even now, it seemed. Sentinel sighed.

“They’re for you, idiot,” he grumbled, pushing the bright blue, intricately wrought flora into Optimus’s hands before the mech could think to retreat back into his apartment. “What does it look like?”

“No, uh- no. I got that. It’s got my name on it and everything. Uh.” Optimus floundered briefly before finally begrudgingly - no, it was definitely graciously - accepting the gift he had been given. “T… thanks?”

“You’re welcome. I thought your apartment looked pretty barren last time I was here and decided that since I was in the area, I would pick up something to help you out since you obviously have no taste in home decor.”

Optimus may have squinted at him a little, but chose to keep quiet, whatever his thoughts. He was shifting from foot to foot though, as if waiting for another cue. What could he possibly be waiting for?

A lengthy silence passed between them as they stared one another down. Sentinel had known he was slow, but honestly, this was just ridiculous…

“Well?” he snapped finally. “Are you gonna accept my proposal now, or what?”

In hindsight, maybe he should have expected Optimus to make every effort to force feed him the bouquet he had given him in response to that. Optimus wasn’t a fan of that tone and he had known it pretty much all their function, but he was already stressed to his limits from having to go to all this extra effort in the first place…

It was only as he was taking a fine bristled brush to his mouth to get the remnants of the trash out that Sentinel even thought to wonder if maybe he should have just had them delivered for him instead. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have shown up unannounced. Someone as cowardly as Optimus is bound to get spooked if caught off-guard. Right?” he asked himself while shuffling back the covers on his berth. He made a note to inform whoever had come in to tidy them up that he didn’t like them tucked in like that as an aside to the problem at hand, and then flopped face first into the soft gel padding.

“Maybe,” he continued, though it was largely muffled now, “Optimus could have used more time to warm up to them first. I guess I was pretty impatient… But I’m trying to show that I’m interested in romancing him, slaggit all! Why can’t he see that? Who does he think he is, being so obtuse with his own best friend?”

No answers were forthcoming, though he didn’t really expect them to. When had Optimus ever made sense? Never in his entire life. The only predictable thing about him was his ability to mess everything up...

In the end, Sentinel decided that it was worth the effort to try again so that he could test his theory- or, at least, Sentinel _had_ thought so right up until Optimus showed up at _his_ door to stuff a bouquet down his throat a second time the following afternoon.

Maybe, just _maybe_ , he needed a different approach.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I managed another update quickly for once! I hope everyone enjoys it. <3

Returning to Cybertron turned out to be nothing like Optimus had hoped it would be. 

After his time on Earth, everything about Cybertron felt bland- sterile, almost. There was a place for everything, and everything was in its place, which was quite unlike Earth’s untamed beauty. Optimus hadn’t known he would miss the freedom until he didn’t have it anymore.

_His_ place, apparently, was in the public eye when the council needed it, and quietly tucked away the rest of the time. He was the designated Hero of Cybertron, and that was all anyone thought when they looked at him; that may have seemed like a blessing once, but Optimus knew better. He had learned a lot during his not-an-exile exile. And how good was it, _really_ , when all the perks that came with the role were thrust upon him whether he wanted them or not?

Even so, he was nothing if not determined to make the best of it since his offer to return to Earth to continue the search for any other wayward Decepticons had been summarily denied. He may have even grown to like it if not for the fact that, hidden amongst the benefits - such as having an apartment that cost him absolutely nothing yet was big enough to house his friends comfortably while Ratchet worked to restore Omega Supreme to peak performance - were annoying little things like being back on Sentinel’s radar.

It wasn’t that he disliked Sentinel (although sometimes he really did dislike Sentinel), but he still could have happily gone the rest of his function without talking to the mech again. The events of the past few cycles only further emphasized his desire to pretend Sentinel didn’t even exist.

Who did he think he was, anyway? Yeah, okay, he had the Magnus title, but everyone knew it was temporary. Ultra Magnus was on the mend and would be able to reclaim his place soon enough. Optimus had just spoken to him himself a few days prior to Sentinel’s crappy excuse for an interview! So, honestly and truly, who did Sentinel think he was, acting like Optimus owed him anything at all - least of all respect for something he hadn’t even _earned_?

And that, of course, completely glossed over their rocky shared past. Optimus didn’t want to think about that. All the thinking in the world wouldn’t change a damn thing anyway.

That didn’t stop his processor from wandering as he slotted himself into the comfortable nook between two larger trucks moving steadily down the freeway and settled in for the long drive back across town to his aforementioned apartment.

Optimus didn’t even know where to begin when it came to Sentinel, if he was being truthful. The other mech had always been like this. It wasn’t like Optimus didn’t _know_. But before, when Elita could temper him into something tolerable, it hadn’t been a big deal to cope with Sentinel’s self-centered ways once in a while. Before, Optimus could have almost said he _admired_ Sentinel, even. He had certainly liked him enough to let that cloud his judgment after Elita’s presumed death… 

Now there was no one, and Sentinel was an unchecked menace running amok on the world at large. Most importantly - at least to Optimus - he was trampling all over Optimus’s carefully planted crops and trying to burn the landscape that painted the picture of all of his progress to the ground in a bid to make him submit. It was _hard_ to hold his own under the onslaught when he remembered how easy things were with Sentinel at the helm, too, but thankfully, he was also able to recognize how fragging _awful_ it had made him feel about himself. Better late than never, right?

Unfortunately, that made for one very confused and upset Prime who had just gotten done attempting to murder the acting Magnus via flowers. He didn’t like the conflict in his spark as he thought about that.

Even more unfortunately, he had absolutely nothing to show for it by the time he was back home.

To be fair, he didn’t want to _actually_ hurt Sentinel - the other mech would have known it right away and he’d be in the stockades before he could blink, for one thing. He just wanted to get his point across. He couldn’t be bought or bribed, least of all for… _whatever_ Sentinel wanted from him now.

Bumblebee, as ever, was a wellspring filled with questions upon his return. Unfortunately, though he looked none the worse for wear in the aftermath of his venture, Optimus had not managed to improve his mood very much, and he couldn’t even pretend to be happy to see the little yellow bot.

Bumblebee was all bouncy steps and cheery smiles. “Good trip?”

“Is it ever a good trip when I have to see Sentinel?” Optimus asked in return, quite without meaning to. He did his best to cover how he cringed by focusing on locking the door for a moment.

“Yeah, guess not. He sure is persistent, isn’t he, bossbot?” Bumblebee asked, oblivious as usual, from the open arch leading into their modest kitchen. “What’s his malfunction?”

“He’s just stupid,” Optimus grumbled as he nudged the smaller mech over so he could reach the dispenser. 

To be perfectly honest, he was surprised it had taken any of his friends this long to start asking questions. He didn’t talk about his time with Sentinel, for very good reason, so he doubted the subject would just be dropped now that it had finally started coming up in earnest due to Sentinel’s behavior of late.

Bumblebee did not disappoint.

“Well, _duh_. I mean, have you _seen_ him? All of the energy that should have gone into making his processor went into that giant chin of his instead,” the yellow bot snorted. “But seriously? He’s trying to get your attention with _plants_. Dead or dying ones, at that!”

The last was spoken softly, derisively, painfully. Optimus could feel the ache in those words resonate harshly within his own spark chamber.

Bumblebee didn’t have to say it outright for Optimus to catch his meaning; Prowl was still a tender subject for all of his maintenance crew. If they were to only agree on doing one thing, it would be honoring Prowl’s memory by learning the value of all life, just as he had done while he was still with them. Destroying something beautiful to put it on display in your home for a few days just felt… cruel, now.

There was no way for Sentinel to know that, so Optimus had tried to let it go the first time, but… well, it was hard, especially when he thought about how his supposed friend would likely never care enough to try to understand even if he told him.

It was just one out of thousands of reasons that should have been enough for him to finally wash his hands of Sentinel.

“Yeah,” he said instead of voicing any of that, and went about getting himself something to drink in the introspective silence that ensued. 

Bumblebee bounced back much quicker than Optimus could ever hope to, though whether that was a blessing or a curse remained to be seen. Still, when he noticed Optimus’s frown deepening further and further, he smiled appeasingly and patted his arm to get his attention once more in a genuine gesture of comforting that Optimus couldn’t help but be grateful for.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’ve got us, you don’t need that guy. D’you wanna play some video games?”

“You can’t fix everything with video games, Bumblebee,” Ratchet’s disembodied voice interjected gruffly, though not unkindly, from the living room where he had obviously been listening in the entire time.

“Well, not with _that_ attitude,” the yellow bot grumbled right back, which Ratchet graced with a rare chuckle before dropping the subject. No sooner, Bumblebee was beaming up at Optimus hopefully.

“Please? There’s new campaign content for Among The Reapers 4. We could probably knock it out before Bulkhead comes home from work if we start now!”

Optimus appreciated the gesture- he really did! Nevertheless, he shook his head and reached out to rub Bumblebee’s head softly in apology.

“Not tonight, ‘Bee. I think I need this snack and then a stasis nap before I do anything else, and Bulkhead will be home soon anyway. How about tomorrow?”

Bumblebee, as expected, pouted spectacularly. 

“Can’t. I already made plans with Sari,” he whined as if Optimus should have already known that. Maybe he should have. Bumblebee was determined though, because he moved quickly into haggling.

“If Bulky’s too tired to play after dinner, maybe then?”

Optimus had the distinct feeling that Bulkhead _would_ be conveniently tired after dinner if he said yes, but doing something fun with Bumblebee was probably exactly what the doctor ordered, after the day he had had. 

At the very least, it would be what _Ratchet_ ordered, if the significant look he was being given by the old medic bot was any indication when he entered the living room to head toward his room at the far end of the apartment.

“Yeah, okay. _If_ Bulkhead doesn’t want the console tonight,” he said to Bumblebee as he went, “we can play for a bit.”

“Okay!”

The rest of the night went about as he expected it to: Bumblebee left him alone _just_ long enough for his nap to be considered such, then woke him with a flying tackle that Ratchet was fast to reprimand him for a couple minutes later. Bulkhead poorly disguised some laughter behind his massive claws while he tried in vain to calmly tell everyone to come to dinner, and Optimus joined him after a minute because why not? It _was_ funny to listen to Ratchet go off on one of his tangents about Bumblebee’s deviant and heathenous behavior. 

It was the closest thing Optimus had ever had to a domestic home, and even after living with them all so long, it could be hard not to get choked up about it if he didn’t distract himself… Especially with the day’s reminder of just why there was always an empty but set place between Ratchet and Bulkhead at the dinner table.

Bumblebee didn’t let him dwell on that though; the very instant his energon was gone, the yellow bot dragged him to the living room and shoved a controller in his hands, and they quickly devolved into raucous laughter at each other’s misfortune while they tackled wave after wave of randomized elite level mob monsters. There was no room for sadness or remorse when he was trying to dodge juggernauts and activate force fields.

Optimus felt like a new mech when he stepped out of his apartment the next day. Even if he had only gotten about half a proper recharge cycle, it had been time well spent with his friends- his family. By the time he had finally trundled tiredly off to bed, he had played games with Bumblebee, run a construction simulator with Bulkhead, and drug Ratchet away from his bookfiles long enough to include him in a group cuddle and movie session. He didn’t even remember what movie they watched, but he remembered the warmth and safety and contentment.

It was the best thing he’d ever had, and Sentinel would never even come close no matter how many gifts he bought him. That ship, as they said, had sailed long ago. The chances of it returning to harbor were slim to none.


	5. Chapter 5

This isn't a proper update, just a status update. Sorry. :( To anyone reading this and feeling sad about it, don't worry. I _will_ be returning. I always do. I just need a break until I feel like I can power through the increasing isolation one feels in such a large and yet divided community again. 

I've just been struggling to write or edit pretty much anything TF related lately due to a combination of IRL and fandom-related woes for too long to pretend it's just a temporary thing anymore. The motivation just isn't there; even for fics like this one, which I absolutely adore and would normally be beyond happy to delve into, I'm pretty much dead in the water because it just doesn't feel worthwhile anymore. I am currently tapping into other fandoms (anyone who follows my main on tumblr will see a bunch of Dead By Daylight stuff, for example, because I adore that game and have gotten really invested in it as my creative energy for this fandom wanes) in an effort to give TF stuff a break so I can come back rejuvenated and excited to write once more sooner rather than later, but until that time, I'll probably just cry in a corner over all the unfinished fics that could have been while also crying over all these poor survivors who just need a fucking hug and some hot cocoa.

I'm still happy to talk to people about TF stuff on my writing blog (same name as here, dinobotglitch), so if you ever have questions about my fics or just want to talk or whatever, feel free to hit me up! I'm still happy to engage, I just can't dredge up the effort necessary to produce anything.


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